Last of the Romantics

                                      

 

I keep talking to your picture, trying to hold back the tears I have inside

For it’s hard to accept the fact that you’re gone now, the lady who had those beautiful eyes

It’s been said that a picture is worth a thousand words, but there’s more I’d like to say

About my lady that I will always love, who made me feel so special in every way

 

I remember the day when you showed me a rose, pressed between the pages of your diary

The very rose I gave to you, when on that day, you said you fell in love with me

I gave you that rose as a symbol of my love, when you set my heart in motion

And you accepted all I could give, including my hopes, my dreams and devotion

 

Maybe, I’m just one of last of the romantics, when it comes to expressing how I feel

With so many emotions attached to my heart, which I know could never be concealed

As much as I needed you in my life, I guess the good lord needed you even more

When he welcomed you home with open arms, and left me a life to try and restore

 

You always seemed to know all the words inside my heart, which I’d always try to say

I guess it was just one of those things, which made you so special in so many ways

Every night I’d always reach across your pillow, and hold your picture in my hand 

Asking you to come into my dreams, before I put you back on the little night stand

 

I remember not so long ago, when night time fell and twilight found me    

A breeze had passed on through, and turned the pages of your diary

It stopped on the very page where you kept the rose, and I knew it had to be a sign

That our special love we shared together, would still be with us all the time

 

One day when I see you in heaven, I will be carrying another rose just for you

To mark an eternity of time, when we fall in love once again, and start out new

The memories I hold deep in my heart, will be memories that I’ll carry with me forever

Until one day when we meet again, and be able to share our love together  

 

I hope that you’ll be waiting for me when I arrive, as I have so much I want to say

But you’ll already know what’s in my heart, for you were always with me every day

As one of the last of the romantics, there would only be one thing left for me to do

And that would be to have the rose in my hand, on the day I pass, to give to you